


return

by theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes



Series: understanding [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentioned Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, prequel that can be read as a standalone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes/pseuds/theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes
Summary: Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, sits alone under a tree, tucked into the furthest corner of the courtyard. He is eleven years old today and he is furious.
Series: understanding [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603279
Comments: 57
Kudos: 706





	return

**Author's Note:**

> sort of inspired by this line in the jaskier game wiki "He received his early education in a temple school, where, according to Geralt, literacy was "beaten into him with a cane", sort of just me wanting to hash out his character and past. nominally part of the understanding series bc my other works attempt to be more lighthearted but you dont need to read the rest

Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, sits alone under a tree, tucked into the furthest corner of the courtyard. He is eleven years old today and he is _furious_. 

At his parents, at his teachers, at the whole world. At the welts on his hands because he talked out during a lesson. He could have friends but he doesn’t because he hates his classmates, hates his class, hates everyone who tries to talk to him so burning hot that it makes his fists clench around it. His whole life is keeping his jaw shut so tight it aches behind his eyes. 

His teachers say: “Julien, you are going to be a viscount, you are a nobleman, act your status,” and he hates them so much it hurts. 

Julien Alfred Pankratz is sitting alone under a tree, tucked into the furthest corner of the courtyard. His hands sting and his eyes sting and he is so, so, angry, and he watches as someone leaves the gates and wishes, so fiercely, that he could join them. 

Julien Alfred Pankratz dreams about adventuring. His tummy full of cheap bread and ale, probably- he thinks he’d be happy as anything. Maybe he’d have a horse, and they’d sleep out under the stars. He could write stories about it. He could send them to his mother and father and they’d be as angry as he is. He’d have a faithful companion, or he’d _be_ the faithful companion, and he’d be _free_ of it all. Maybe he’d even fight monsters.

-

Julien Alfred Pankratz is eleven and a half when his class is taken on a trip down to the nearby village. He has tried to run away three times so his least favorite teacher of all, an old man with a quick tongue and a cane that’s even quicker, has a bony hand wrapped around his upper arm like a vice. He trips sullenly on the dirt, eyes on the path, when an excited, frighted hush comes over the whole little group. 

A man is riding by. A Witcher, because he has gold eyes and white hair and he looks scary as anything _and_ he’s got something dripping in his saddlebag that looks like some kind of head. Julien Alfred Pankratz gapes and then halfheartedly tries to break away while everyone’s distracted, but his teacher holds him back and cuffs him upside the head for the trouble. The Witcher hardly spares their group a glance, and continues on silent, and. Wow. 

Wow. Witchers are pretty much monsters, he’s heard, but they also _kill_ monsters _and_ they’re always adventuring around. There’s a delighted shiver going down his spine as he stares after the retreating back, and he has to be tugged along when they finally start walking again. For the first time in a very long time, he doesn’t feel mad. He feels.... 

Determined. He thinks. 

-

When Julian Alfred Pankratz is twelve years and three months old, he decides that he is going to get out of here. He packs his little bag, steals a lute he’s not allowed to touch from the music room because he’s heard it before and he likes the sound and he can learn. His window is locked but he picks it, and he’s on the second floor so he drops, drops, drops. Lands painfully, probably twisting an ankle, sticks to the shadows as he edges out. He is small enough, short and skinny, that he can slip through a gap in the gate, and once he’s out he’s running, and running, and running. 

That first night, when he stops a clearing to catch his breath and celebrate, he flops down onto his belly in a patch of flowers. Dandelions. 

He thinks: I will rip away who I am and replace it with someone everyone will love. 

-

Jaskier has no parents or past or future. Jaskier is Jaskier, singing high and sweet, nimble enough to dodge danger and steal supper. 

Slowly, people are beginning to see him. 

-

Julien Alfred Pankratz is ten years old, his hands clenched and trembling at his sides, and his father is telling him to be a _man_ , damn it all, stop embarrassing him and do well at school or _else_.

Jaskier is sixteen when he’s sitting in the grass under a full moon, belly empty, totally free.

Jaskier is twenty years old when he gets heckled in a tavern and goes up to the nearest patron to complain. The man is enormous, burly, with white hair and golden eyes, and he tells Jaskier that his song was, in fact, incorrect about the monster. 

A Witcher. 

Somehow so familiar. 

Jaskier sticks to his side.

**Author's Note:**

> this was very short and sort of not very good but im just trying 2 figure him out
> 
> if u liked this shoot me a prompt at redjewelsforeyes.tumblr.com, ill give you a little jig 
> 
> ALSO if u liked this pls leave a comment i will give you another little jig, this time in a different hat. its the same dance


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